


I Won't Move the Heaven's for You and You'll Pretend to Forget Me

by victoriousscarf



Category: Batman (1966), Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian isn't sure how he's ended up in this strange version of the 1960s, but he wants to go home to his Gotham. He wants his own father back and his own Grayson, not this kid in the bright yellow cape. </p><p>Even if it does seem like his instinct to care about and protect Grayson seems to cross the dimensions themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lamentforboromir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentforboromir/gifts).



> As usual I got an idea and then Lamentforboromir encouraged the fuck out of it. 
> 
> Damian is 15-16 here, so he's an older teenager to match Dick's (I'm assuming) age here. (Which means technically they're both still underage)

“Are you okay there, kid? You seem to have taken a nasty fall.”

Damian screwed his eyes shut tighter before forcing them open. He was flat on his back in an alley, and the place smelled different than he usually thought of Gotham. Maybe he'd somehow ended up in one of the wealthy enclaves that the wealthy insisted they didn't have.

All he could remember was falling off a roof, not even fully in uniform, Dick's face frantic behind the cowl and now he was here.

Where ever here was.

He opened his eyes and the sky above him was bright afternoon, and cars weren't too far away, and there was a boy crouched in front of him in some mockery of the Robin suit—

Damian reacted, hands snagging the flimsy yellow cape and yanking down at the same time he rolled, pinning the other boy beneath him. “What are you wearing?” he hissed, fingers still wrapped up in the yellow collar of the cape. “It's not even Halloween!”

“I don't wear this on Halloween,” the boy said, his hands bracing on Damian's. “Don't you recognize me? I'm Robin.”

For a second Damian froze, his knees pressed on either side of the other boy's hips. “That isn't funny.”

“I'm not trying to be funny,” the boy said and he wasn't even wearing armor it was just spandex. That was fine for Superman, but not for the Bats of Gotham, who had mortal skin and whose enemies had guns. “Why don't you be a chum and let me up?”

“Chum?” Damian protested, incredulous. “What is this, the fifties?”

The boy squinted at him and the mask revealed too much of his blue eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Damian almost snarled. “Tt. I'm fine.” Even though it was increasingly obvious he probably wasn't.

“Because it's nineteen sixty-seven,” the boy said and Damian jerked his hands back like he had been burned. “Not the fifties. You're missing almost a decade in there.”

“The sixties?” Damian repeated and looked at the boy again, whose eyes were blue and who looked at him like he only wanted to help— “Dick?”

Those eyes widened in shocked alarm and Damian rolled off him abruptly.

-0-

He sat on the curb, furious, while Robin sat beside him with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. “Batman will be here soon.”

Damian grunted, and kicked the heel of his boot against the concrete in front of him. He hadn't been in uniform, except for the boots. Dick had gone out to do something _stupid_ without him and Damian had come home to find him gone and he had laced up the boots and ran out, mask barely on.

It had been stupid.

It had apparently been very stupid.

“Why won't you tell me why you know who I am?” Dick asked, sliding his eyes over and Damian couldn't get over the idea of a cloth mask that revealed the eyes. It seemed so trusting. It seemed so stupid.

Dick's eyes were expressive enough, the criminals of Gotham didn't need to see them too.

When the batmobile finally appeared around the corner for a second all Damian could do was stare. It was impractical and slick and for a second he just wanted to stroke his hands along it because it was beautiful. And as stupid as Dick's mask.

When Batman sprung from the front seat, Damian felt his entire body go cold.

“Robin!” he said and he was in spandex too, his cape useless for anything expect fluttering out behind him. And he—he seemed—“I came as soon as I could. I got held up by the police ceremony.”

“Ceremony?” Damian asked, interrupting whatever the two of them were going to say.

“Of course,” this strange Batman said. “I was giving Chief O'Hara his award for excellent service in the fight against crime.”

Damian felt his jaw work as he scrambled for something to say. “You were... seen... in costume? Giving a cop an award?”

“Of course,” Batman frowned at him. “Was this the boy you called me about, Robin?”

“Yeah,” Robin said and Damian was still frantically trying to figure out how Batman was seen publicly with the police.

“Well then, chum—”

“Again?” Damian asked.

“I'm going to have to ask how you know Robin's secret identity.”

“Pretty sure I know yours too,” Damian said, surly at the concrete at his feet from where he was sitting still on the curb.

They were staring at him now, both wide eyed and alarmed and Damian punched the sidewalk beside him.

-0-

He was shoved into the Batmobile and tried not to think about how sleek it looked. The car itself looked amazing, even as he wanted to gripe about how functionally stupid it was. He tried his damnest not to look at the bat shaped red phone in the middle of Batman and Robin's seats. He didn't think he would look quite sane if he started screaming.

Once they reached the cave he thought for a second he might be able to relax but everything was brightly colored like an episode of that old Star Trek show and labeled with “bat.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he demanded and had missed Alfred arriving with a tray. Which he promptly dropped in shock.

It seemed Alfred could always make him feel guilty and he felt his cheeks redden as Batman yelped. “Language!” he scolded. “That kind of language—young man you are on a path I urge you to turn back from.”

Damian stared at him. “What, you think I'm a juvenile delinquent because I say fuck?”

All three of them started flailing at him again and Damian thought about the sword he had when he first arrived at Wayne manor, the way he had shoved Tim through the trophy cases with the intent to kill him. Now he was traumatizing the inhabitants of Wayne manor just by swearing.

He almost wanted to find a sword just to see what would happen.

Batman finally cleared his throat. “Now then,” he said, marshaling himself to address the strange boy in front of him. Damian sneered. “Our identities are not widely known. We are in fact very careful with them.”

“Right,” Damian said, because they were wearing _cloth_ masks, how serious could they be?

“Which brings me to the important question—”

“Just ask me how I know,” Damian snapped, because while Grayson might sometimes waffle around what he was trying to ask, and Bruce would simply not speak if he doesn't want to ask a question, all these words felt excessive for a simple question.

“Now young man—”

“For fuck's sake,” Damian said, because he was a teenager now, and playing with how much swearing he could get away with before Grayson or his father snapped. “I know who you are because I'm Robin.”

There was a moment of dead silence.

“What?” Robin asked faintly.

“In the—probably not the future,” he amended, because he thought his father would have been alive by the mid 1960s, but he didn't think Grayson would have been. “I'm going out on a limb and assuming alternate universe or past or whatever.”

“What do you mean you're Robin?” And this version of Dick was staring at him, something vulnerable in his eyes and Damian desperately didn't want to tell him what happened, the line of kids that took his mantle. By the time Grayson had handed him the costume and title, he had come to a tentative peace with his legacy.

Damian knew he hadn't always had that.

“It's okay,” he lied. “You gave the title to me.”

“Why would I?” Robin asked, looking at his Batman who was staring in shock.

“And why would I take in another boy?” Batman asked. “Are you an orphan as well—”

“Because I'm your son, you bastard,” Damian snapped and Batman jerked back. Damian knew this time it wasn't about his language.

Batman was staring at him, and Damian had been self conscious about his skin when he first came to Gotham, and saw all the other blue eyed boys who had been Robin before him, who were pale-skinned while he was not. But his father had never said anything, and had certainly never given him this shocked appraisal.

“I—I certainly do not remember having relations with—with a lady—who could have—”

“Please stop,” Damian said. “As I said, I think it's a different universe.”

“Are there a lot of those?” Robin asked, and he looked interested. His eyes were wide as he looked at Damian, desperate and eager to know more.

It felt like a punch to the stomach and Damian missed his own Grayson so much it _hurt_.

“Yeah,” he said, gruffly to hide the worry that what if he couldn't get home? “There's a few of them.”

“So you know who we are, because you know us there?” Robin asked.

“Yeah,” Damian said. He didn't say he might never have guessed this Batman was Bruce Wayne—surely he must be someone else?—but he knew Dick just from his blue eyes and faith. Even though this version of Grayson was clearly inferior to his own.

“You,” Robin twisted his hands. “Said I gave you the Robin name? Do we get along there?”

Damian stared at him, his stomach churning with everything he had never said to Grayson. About how grateful he was, even all these years later for him. The way Grayson's voices sometimes did _things_ to his insides, and the way his hands ached when Grayson laughed. How Grayson's continued belief and partnership sometimes felt like the only things holding Damian together.

“Yes,” he said instead of _I'm in love with you there_.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My parents are visiting and my work schedule changed this month so I'm probably going to remain fairly incognito through this weekend. But look! I bring a small offering in the meantime

“Drake, I swear to fuck if you fail me now I will actually kill you,” Damian muttered, leaning his head against the wall and trying not to punch it. Or scream. Or do anything except lean there and mutter because behind him Bruce Wayne was helping Dick Grayson with his homework.

“But Bruce,” Dick was saying. “I'm not sure I'll ever be able to understand this.”

“Now Dick,” Bruce said and Damian almost banged his head into the wall again. “Learning about math is very important. It's just like another language and how else would I be able to program the bat computer?”

“Gosh, Bruce, I guess you're right,” Dick said and he sounded so earnest, Damian almost walked out of the room. “I'll just have to figure it out.”

“Drake, don't fail me,” he told the wall instead, because Drake had perhaps the most experience with time travel and other dimensions after his father had gone missing, those years ago. He was also, Damian was now willing to admit, one of the smartest heroes when it came to strange and abstract things.

Through lack of anything better to do with him, Bruce Wayne had accepted him into his house. He had almost caused the strange lady in the house to faint just by appearing. When Bruce painfully told her he would be staying with them for the foreseeable future, she had clutched her chest and Damian gave her the most pointy grin he had.

Bruce had scolded him and Damian had shrugged it off. But when Dick expressed quiet disappointment, because his aunt Harriet was a fine lady, really, she was, Damian snapped his mouth shut.

“You go to school, don't you?”

It took Damian too long to realize Bruce was asking him. “Technically,” he said.

Bruce watched him with narrowed eyes. “If I was your father I would make sure—”

“You're not,” Damian snapped, even though he knew he shouldn't. After all there was really only one thing keeping him in that house. “Besides, you don't even know the situation.”

“An education is important for everyone to become an upstanding citizen—”

“I have one,” Damian snapped. “I graduated from high school early. I'm taking online classes at college.”

That drew Bruce up short and Damian wanted to crow in his face. “That,” Bruce seemed to recover. “That's good.”

“Yeah, it is,” Damian said, crossing his arms. “So no, I won't go to high school again if that's what you're thinking. Especially not some,” and he bit back what he wanted to say. The thought of what a sixties school might teach made his skin crawl. “I'm just not going back.”

He blocked Bruce out again, turning and idly kicking the wall.

“Say, can you help me?” and Damian finally registered Dick was talking to him.

“With what, math homework?” he snapped and Dick looked at him with bright eyes. “Are you really having so much trouble with it?” He winced because he sounded cold and Dick sometimes needed help, but Damian was unused to the idea of helping Dick with his _homework_.

Dick's smile faltered and Damian plopped himself in the chair across from him. “Give it here,” he muttered, and Dick shoved it toward him, sighing at the door.

“So you didn't like school?” Dick asked and Damian grunted.

“I found it droll,” he said. “Half the teachers didn't know what they were doing and I got into too many fights with the kids.”

“You got into fights?” Dick asked, his eyes flickering up and Damian grunted. “That's not very sporting. Not with your training I mean. It wouldn't be fair.”

Damian slowly looked up at him, not mentioning the sort of training he had. “Is that why you don't fight.”

Dick flushed, looking away. “Sometimes,” he said. “Kids can be mean. But it's not fair to any of them, not when I'm probably so much better at them. At least at fighting! I'm not saying I'm better than the other kids, some of them work really hard and are a lot smarter than me!”

Damian blinked, squinting at Dick before deciding it was best to just look away from him. “So did you used to get into fights?”

“A couple times,” Dick said softly. “When I first came here. It was a long time ago.”

So even this Dick was not quite squeaky clean and Damian wished he didn't know that. “What'd you fight about?” he asked, making a few notations on Dick's homework and pushing it back across the table.

“Mostly it was when I first came to Gotham,” Dick said, hesitant. “About Bruce taking me in and,” he fell silent. “It's been a long time. I think most people have forgotten I ever got into a fight.”

Damian stared at him, wondered if his own Dick Grayson had once gotten into school fights. Somehow he had never imagined it before.

“You got so mad at me for fighting,” Damian said.

Dick frowned. “I thought you said Bruce was your father?”

Damian grunted. “For a while he wasn't around.” He didn't quite say _it was just you and me and you made me who I am today and I both love and resent you for it_.

“Oh,” Dick said. “Um, am I much older than you then?”

Damian's scowl deepened. “Yes,” he snapped.

“Gosh,” Dick said after a beat. “That's weird to think about.”

“It's weird to have you be the same age,” Damian snapped for lack of anything better to do.

Dick's face turned red again. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It's not your fault,” Damian allowed, because he was slowly learning how to be gracious.

Dick finally looked back up at him. “You know,” he said happily. “I think I actually understand this!”

-0-

Damian stormed out of the mansion, Aunt Harriet's yells behind him.

“Wait!” Dick called, running down the steps after him.

“No,” Damian snapped, taking the next couple steps.

“Where are you even going?”

“I don't know,” Damian said. “Probably to find some crime or something. Surely _someone_ in this city needs their face punched in.”

Dick's face registered a look of horror. “You can't just—go out looking for crime! We work with the police department! Otherwise we would just be vigilantes.”

That caused Damian to stop. “You just... wait for the police to call you?”

“Of course!” Dick said. “We can't function outside the law.” He had come closer, so that he stood on the same step at Damian and Damian realized all at once he was taller than Dick Grayson.

He wondered if that was just this Dick, or his Grayson too. The realization made his stomach flip over.

“You can't just go running off to attack people,” Dick said, softly and urgently.

Damian swallowed and stepped down another step, so at least he was still looking up at Dick. “Do you want to train then?”

“Excuse me?” Dick asked, blinking and Damian wanted to smirk at him.

“If you want to stop me from running off to attack people, you'll need to offer me another distraction,” Damian explained. “So. You want to train?”

Dick's jaw worked in surprise before he nodded, somewhat wary. “You mean, go for a run?”

“How is your boxing?” Damian asked and Dick's eyes widened.

“Are you serious?”

“Very,” Damian said and Dick glanced down the drive way as if imagining Damian let loose on his own. “Alright,” he decided finally.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was working on this story right before life went pear shaped and stayed that way for a few months. When you're working on a story right when things go awful and stay that way you sorta get a weird paranoia about that story and it took me a while to work my way back here. 
> 
> But here we are at least. 
> 
> (How do I end up with porn that requires so much /plot/ to get to?)

“You should go to school,” Bruce said, when Damian was doing push ups in the batcave. Not that Damian wanted to even think of this strangely bright place with labels as the batcave. “And you should be nicer to Dick.”

“I am nice to Dick,” Damian muttered. He used the boy's first name because he could not call him Grayson.

“You punched him in the face,” Bruce said, and even this cheery strange Bruce Wayne had a stern lecturing voice. “The bruise will be difficult to hide in time for school.”

Damian didn't deign to say that was an accident again. It was already clear enough Bruce didn't believe him. Sparring to take his frustration out had been a horrible mistake and once again he was desperate to understand how Dick survived here.

Frankly he was starting to get worried.

“I'm not going back to high school, which I've already graduated, just to lessen the guilt you have about the fact some version of you dared to have a son like me,” Damian snapped and stormed away. It was petty and stupid but he felt tired.

He kept having a vague hope that he would go to sleep and wake up and be home again. But every morning he woke up to the sound of birds that sounded more chipper in this Gotham than his own.

By the time he got up the stairs some of his anger had dissipated again, leaving bone deep exhaustion. When Alfred found him, he had collapsed on one of the couches in a side parlor, his knees curled up against his chest and his head on his knees.

Fluffing a few of the pillows around him, Alfred stopped in front of him and slowly Damian looked up. “Did you mean to punch Master Richard in the face like that?” Alfred asked.

“No,” Damian said miserably because it was never worth it to be angry at Alfred, even if he had already protested of course he didn't mean it several times already.

“Well then, what has gotten you so down?” Alfred asked and he sounded almost similar enough to his own Alfred Damian could pretend for a second.

He rested his chin on his knees, peering up at Alfred. “I want to go home,” he said.

“Well, I think I know at least something that this calls for,” Alfred said.

“And what could that possibly be?” Damian asked.

“Tea,” Alfred declared and Alfred fussing over him made him feel the most normal he had in a while. He still gave a few token snarls but he let Alfred maneuver him into the kitchen and feed him a couple lemon cakes with tea.

After a while he felt fortified enough to go search out Dick, finding him reading in another of the parlors.

“I'm sorry,” he said, and dropped a few lemon cakes on his lap wrapped in a napkin.

Dick blinked first down at the food, and then up at Damian before breaking into a grin. “It's okay. I'm sure you didn't mean it. I mean, you said you didn't.”

“I didn't,” Damian ground out. He tried not to stare at the bruise spreading out from Dick's cheek, curling up under his eye. But his eyes kept going back to it, and he viciously suppressed the strange possession he felt upon seeing it. He didn't _want_ to punch Dick in the face and bruise him. He wanted to mark him with—and he viciously suppressed that thought before it could go anywhere else. “But I'm still sorry,” he said, too gruffly.

“Thank you,” Dick said, bright and Damian wanted to slink away. He felt somehow wrong, like he needed to get away. “Training with you was enlightening. We should do it again sometime.”

“Uh,” Damian managed. “Sure?”

Dick's smile made him want to punch a wall.

-0-

Damian caved in a remarkably short time. It didn't matter he had already finished high school, if he didn't do _something_ to pass the time he was going to loose his mind. They still refused to let him patrol and while he could just take off on his own it didn't seem like it would endear him to this team that worked _with_ the police.

Besides, he reasoned with himself as he walked up the stairs to Woodrow Roosevelt High School, this way he could keep an eye on Dick even here. Who knew what trouble that boy was getting into?

But walking into the school with Bruce Wayne he almost turned right around and walked out. He stubbornly wore his Robin boots, which were still green and lace up knee high boots, like they had been when he first became Robin. If his skin didn't make him stand out here, those did, but he would not give up the last link to who he was in his own world.

He decided not to care if people stared at him for the boots or his skin color, but he felt their stares inch under his skin anyway.

Bruce fumbled in front of the principal. “This is—this is Damian al Ghul, and I would like to enroll him.”

The principal blinked. “And how, erm, are you related, Mr. Wayne?” he asked, hesitant and confused and apparently on the verge of panic because of it.

“Cultural exchange,” Damian said smoothly, when Bruce seemed tongue tied. “I'm from one of Gotham's sister cities in the Middle East. Mr. Wayne was kind enough to volunteer to test the program of cultural exchange.” He tried to give a charming smile and felt like it just made him look angry.

“Oh,” the principal brightened. “That's so—Mr. Wayne you are just too good to this city.”

“I try to simply be one of its humble servants,” Bruce said like he meant it. Damian did not cringe only by force of will.

He also managed to wrangle mostly the same classes as Dick, including physical education. Which was good, he thought until he saw the uniform of tiny shorts.

Then again maybe that was his worst idea all day.

-0-

When he entered the classroom everyone turned to stare at him, except for Dick who greeted him with a huge grin.

“Oh,” the teacher said, her eyes wide behind her glasses and with her curled hair. “I—”

Damian forced another smile and handed her the note from the principal. “I'm here on a cultural exchange,” he said. “Sponsored by Mr. Wayne.”

The teacher got that almost misty eyed look people did when Bruce Wayne was mentioned here. The look that expressed just how _good_ Mr. Wayne was and how the city just didn't seem to deserve him. Damian tried really hard to imagine his own father producing that look from anyone.

“He is such a gentleman,” she sighed and looked around the room. “Well, you can sit,” and Dick waved his hand and pointed to the seat next to him. “Well, by Mr. Grayson. He's our student council president you know.”

“Of course he is,” Damian muttered and stomped over to sit down next to him, the whole class watching his progress. “Tell me truthfully, Grayson, did I get in because Bruce Wayne sponsored me or is this school just segregated by accident?” he asked in a whisper as he pulled a note book and pen out of his pack.

“What?” Dick whispered back as the teacher seemed to remember she was supposed to actually teach.

-0-

The day just kept getting worse. Dick managed to convince most of the teachers to let them sit together which meant something. But there were whispers about him everywhere. Damian managed to block at least some of them out by focusing on how awful Dick's maroon cable knit sweater was.

Sure, high schools dressed nicer in general, with button downs and some sweater vests, but Dick's color choice and frumpiness stood out in a sea of what amounted to 1960s fashion disasters. High schoolers could just never manage to be chic, Damian decided.

At least Dick wasn't wearing bright yellow, so it wasn't his worst choice.

“It's probably the boots,” Dick said as they changed for gym. Damian focused on his boot, actually unlacing it all the way so he wouldn't be tempted to look up at Dick.

“It's probably my skin color,” Damian muttered, pulling one of the boots off.

He could tell Dick was offended beside him. “Damian, no! This is Gotham—”

“So?” Damian asked, and when he looked over, Dick was in actual sweat pants, not the short shorts the other boys were wearing and Damian blinked. “Pretty sure I'm the only not white student here,” Damian said when he got his breath back.

“That's,” Dick frowned and sat down next to him. “Are you?”

“Get me a year book and we'll check,” Damian said and it wasn't Dick's fault so there was no real reason to be snide with him.

Dick frowned all the way out to the gym. They were practicing basketball, and several of the boys were elbowing themselves and grinning in the arrogance of youth. “We have a winning basketball team here,” Dick said with some pride.

“Yeah?” Damian asked. “Don't you do sports?”

“Doesn't seem fair,” Dick said under his breath. “Besides, I don't really have the time.”

“But you have time to be student council president?” Damian asked, arching his brows and Dick blushed slightly.

“It was, that was more an accident than anything. Besides! We must do our civic duty.”

“Uh-huh,” Damian said and when one of the boys whacked him in the back of his head he whirled around.

“Jack, that wasn't very nice,” Dick protested.

“Sorry, Grayson, it was an accident,” the boy grinned, all perfect white teeth and swept side ways blond hair and Damian was going to take him down the instant they started playing ball.

“At least apologize to him!” Dick said.

“Oh, no, it's fine,” Damian said and grinned at Jack, the smile he still gave criminals on the dark streets something and the boy took a step away from him. “I'm sure it was just an accident.”

When he tripped Jack in the middle of the class, he shrugged when Dick stared at him. “It was an accident!” he said. “We just ran into each other and got tangled up.”

“With Jack of all people,” Dick said, disappointment leaking from his voice.

“Yes,” Damian said and disliked the curl of guilt he felt.

“Right,” Dick turned away and Damian's jaw worked uselessly, unable to come up with anything to say.

The bruise had mostly faded, but some of it was still visible around Dick's cheekbone.

-0-

History class had Damian clutching the sides of his desk, his knuckles white.

Dick's eyes kept darting to him, but Damian couldn't come up with a thing to say except that history was more racist than he remembered it being.

At least he breezed through math and French without any problems, proving that he was quite up to class level and in fact beyond it. The teachers looked shocked, having started the classes eyeing him with pity and assuring him they would be able to move him into a class that fitted him if he found himself falling behind.

Beside him Dick was grinning as he tore them down, proud of him and Damian tried to ignore that.

Apparently even the pride of this Grayson meant something to him.

He missed his own like a knife wound, hoping the idiot was taking care of himself, or letting Cass or Tim do the job for him at the very least. They weren't as good as Damian himself but at least they would be there.

-0-

Alfred—bless the man across the universe—was waiting with tea and a cake. “And how was your first day of school?”

“I didn't get into any fights,” Damian said, shoving cake into his mouth and worrying about his waist. Most of the food Alfred made was as healthy as his own, but this Alfred spoiled him with sweets a bit more.

“You did trip a boy though,” Dick said, still sounding judgmental. “In gym.”

“It was an accident,” Damian muttered.

Dick sighed and sat down next to him, getting his own piece of cake. “I hope it was,” he said. After he chewed in silence on his first bite, he turned to Damian. “Was it very different from your own school?”

“Yeah,” Damian said, poking at his own cake with a fork. “The classes. People. It's just different.”

Dick looked down. “You want to go home, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” Damian said too quickly. “I've been trying to research what I can here but there's just—you don't have experience with other universes so there's not much I can even look in to. It's just,” he looked away, and tried not to notice that Dick looked sad.

“I don't know what I'll do with you gone,” Dick said. “I've gotten used to you being around. How old was I when we met?”

“Almost thirty,” Damian said after a beat.

“I wonder if you'll exist here too,” Dick said. “I'd hate to have to wait that long to meet you again.”

“Not sure this Bruce is the type,” Damian said and Dick tilted his head.

“Wasn't he married to your mother?” he asked and looked taken aback when Damian barked out a harsh laugh.”They, they weren't?” Dick asked hesitantly.

“No,” Damian shook his head. “Fuck, no, they were never married.”

“Oh,” Dick said softly. “I mean,” he paused and looked away. “Then I hope you happen here anyway. I don't want to think about you going home and that being it.”

Damian's hand tightened on the fork he still held. “Why would you miss me?”

Turning big eyes on him, Dick looked horrified. “How can you ask that? How couldn't I miss you? Golly, Damian, you have to give yourself more credit. You're great.”

“I actually punched you in the face,” Damian said.

“Accidentally,” Dick pointed out and smiled. Damian wondered how much the bruise hurt when he did that.

“I seem to have a lot of accidents,” Damian said. “I come from a very different world. It's a lot less,” and he paused, trying to come up with a right phrase. “It's just different.”

“I just wish you believed me when I said I would miss you,” Dick said, frowning.

“I do,” Damian said because he _did._ Dick Grayson was just like that and it made Damian hurt all over to think about it. “I'm sorry you will.”

“It's better,” Dick said. “To have actually met you than to not have.”

Damian had to look away from him and Dick let the subject drop.

That night, his stomach hurting a little and he blamed the cake for that, Damian lay in his bed and stared at the curtains fluttering in the faint breeze and refused to think about the way Dick looked at him.

It had been bad enough with Grayson, who he'd known almost half his life by now. The first person he trusted, the first person he ever looked at when he got older and realized he wanted like it was a punch to his gut. But Grayson was always his mentor, always older than he was. It made it easier in some ways to pretend he didn't want to push him over and crawl into his lap and kiss his neck until he made the man pliant beneath him.

Dick, with his honest eyes he never hid and bright smiles, being his own age made him feel stupidly more attainable and it made it _worse_. It made him terribly aware of him all the time, his hands and the way he smiled at Damian.

Rolling over, Damian punched the pillow and reminded himself even if Dick seemed more open and receptive to him, it didn't mean Dick would make the leap from friendship to something else. This was, after all, the nineteen-sixties and Damian wasn't even sure if homosexuality was legal in Gotham yet. Dick's sexuality was a blank spot he didn't dare try and fill in.

“It doesn't matter,” he told his pillow. “I'm going home and it doesn't matter.”

-0-

Weeks were passing, he realized and wanted to stand outside and yell at the sky for Drake to hurry it the fuck up.

But aunt Harriet clearly thought he was crazy enough already.

On their way to school one day, Damian saw an older man walking into Bruce's study. “What's up?” he asked.

“Oh, they're going to ask Bruce to run for mayor again,” Dick said. “They do every year. You know, Gotham's in bad shape, there's all these traffic issues and we've been having these blackouts and just so many problems.”

Damian stared at him, finally mostly over the urge to laugh whenever someone talked about Gotham's problems. He would have loved to show them Arkham, or the crime waves that wracked Gotham, or even talk about the earthquake that had taken so much of the city down before he ever arrived.

“Right,” he said instead.

“But of course he turns them down,” Dick said. “I don't think he'd like politics and well, he has so much else to do. I can't imagine being mayor and Batman.”

“No,” Damian agreed, trying to imagine his own father in politics and he laughed. “I think that at least is constant across the universe. Bruce Wayne would be awful at politics.”

He tried not to think about the fact he found it easier to laugh here. Being more carefree certainly did not make him happier, and his Gotham, his Grayson needed him.

On the way to school he was mostly silent, putting in the bare effort through out his classes until they reached gym class. As usual, Dick donned a conservative outfit of sweatpants and a sweatshirt and Damian almost asked him why. He ran around Gotham in tights for fuck's sake, why by modest at school?

But he couldn't quite untie his tongue enough so he let it rest, running laps around the gym and finally coming back to the weights in time for the milk machine to start spitting out coins instead of milk.

Dick's face registered shock. “It must be the Joker,” he said as he pulled Damian to one side, between their next classes.

“I'm sorry,” Damian managed, his mouth having gone dry. “ _What_?”

“Do you know who the—”

“Yes, we have a Joker,” Damian hissed, looking around. “What the fuck makes you think a gag machine is the Joker? That's—unbelievably low scale for him what the hell?”

“I think he's going to try and convince kids to drop out of school and join him,” Dick said, face serious and Damian tried not to burst out laughing.

It turned out, Dick wasn't that far off.

Damian could not believe this city, he just could not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter going into the next is drawing from the season one episodes "The Joker Goes to School" and "He Meets his Match, the Grisly Ghoul" for, uh, a really specific reason.


	4. Chapter 4

Damian watched from the window as Batman pulled up in the sleek car of his as half the student body seemed to run past him, asking Batman where Robin was. He winced, because of course Robin had such an ardent fanclub of other high school age students. It made about as much sense as them working side by side with the police who seemed—if possible—even more ineffective than his own Gotham PD.

He had elbowed himself into the student council meeting with Dick, and by now no one at school really argued with him when it came to following Dick Grayson around like a lost puppy.

He felt just about as pathetic as said lost puppy so it seemed fitting.

But now that the students were starting to insist they didn't need to work hard if money was just going to come out of machines for them, he wanted to bang his head against the window.

“That's not how it works,” Dick protested just as the girl Suzie informed him he couldn't talk, being the ward of a millionaire.

Damian almost corrected her to billionaire before he caught himself.

He tried to keep his attention out the window, instead of on the mustard colored sweater Dick chose to wear to school today. His thoughts were getting bad enough that he didn't just want to tear it off Dick and burn it, he wanted to take it apart with his teeth.

This was getting out of control.

Batman bounded up to the meeting, and blinked to see Damian there, who gave him a level look back. Unable to force himself to pay attention to Batman as he blustered about, explaining to the kids that the Joker was trying to convince them to drop out of school and become crooks by easy living, Damian focused instead on Dick and regretted it.

He regretted quite a lot lately.

When Batman started showing the slide show, he finally cast his gaze over, frowning at the pictures of the Joker, trying to reconcile this man with the one he knew. Shaking his head, he was about to turn away again when the Joker himself appeared from behind the screen, cackling.

Without thinking about it, Damian was in front of Dick, who shoved him to the side to put himself in front of Damian, and it took Damian just a second to whirl them around so Dick would be behind him again.

Dick hissed something annoyed and Damian ignored him, blinking to find out that loitering on school grounds carried a $5,000 dollar fine and five years in prison.

“So much for the sugar candy utopia of this place,” he muttered under his breath.

Suzie looked over at them with a frown, and Damian realized he still had Dick pressed behind him, his arms framing him. Slowly, he dropped his arms and stepped away from Dick, clearing his throat.

-0-

Later, when Dick pretended to be sick to get home—and they were still both flat out refusing to allow Damian to help them with crime fighting—Suzie hunted him down.

“Say, something's not quite right with you, is it?” she asked and Damian slammed his locker closed to stare at her.

“Excuse me?”

“I don't just mean that you're colored,” she said and Damian's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Though perhaps that has something to do with it. But you don't fit in here, do you?”

“You do,” Damian said. “Head cheerleader, on the student council and all,” and she looked angry for a second. “What? Are you trying to recruit me into something?”

“Obviously not,” she said, stomping off.

Something was not quite right with her, Damian decided. Now, if the other two would let him actually work with them, maybe he would tell them he found a clue.

But somehow he figured Dick and Bruce would both rush to the poor girl's defense, how could he judge her like that? Snorting, he shouldered his bag and walked down the hallway.

-0-

“No,” Damian protested, staring at both of them already suited up and in the car. “This is the Joker—” however foolish and stupid this version of him was “—and I am not just letting you walk out.”

“We've been doing this a long time,” Batman said, serious. “We've put this Joker away many times.”

“Yeah, we know how to handle him,” Robin added, chipper and in his tights that made Damian stare. At least when he knew Dick he wasn't in his Robin uniform. Damian wasn't sure he would have been able to survive that.

“Besides,” Batman said, serious. “Your skin stands out too much. It would be obvious who you are.”

“Just let me come with you,” Damian said, almost begging. “I won't be in uniform. I'll just—I'll stay with the car, as back up, if you need me. I'm the crazy exchange student, I shouldn't be here that much longer just _please_.”

“Come on, Batman,” Robin said. “Having emergency back up might not be such a bad idea.”

Batman scowled at him. “Oh, alright,” he said. “But I want to lay some ground rules for you! I know you're quite violent—”

“I would call it well trained in crime fighting,” Damian said and Batman scowled at him, like he was about to take his offer back so Damian snapped his mouth shut.

“I don't want you to be attacking people unless there's no other choice,” Batman said. “And to be as gentle as possible!”

“Sure,” Damian said.

-0-

Damian sat on the edge of the Batmoblie, kicking idly against the paint. He watched Batman and Robin dart happily into the school, as if this was a lark and they were playing a game instead of fighting crime. He scowled and kicked harder.

This would be easier if they had a comm system, or cell phones. He was never going to insult cell phones again when he got home.

Time passed slowly out in the dark, waiting to hear what happened. After a while he started to realize it was too much time, and was standing when several high school students came out carrying the prone forms of Batman and Robin. He ducked behind the car, watching them carry the crime fighters to a van that pulled up.

“That doesn't look shady at all,” he muttered, staring at the van's paint job. “For fuck's sake,” he said under his breath.

He started to inch closer, sticking to the shadows of the parking lot, in time to see the henchmen come out of the van, and start hooking power up to it.

“Alright,” Damian said, crawling back to the batmoblie, and yanking open the trunk with its toolbox. Honestly he had no idea how exactly this trunk or their utility belts obeyed the laws of physics, but he figured it must have something to do with a pocket dimension they just didn't understand.

He had other things to stress about.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked as he pulled out the Bat Electric Wire Cutters.

With a shrug, he went back to the van, seeing the Joker and Suzie sitting in the front, shaking his head slightly and going around the henchmen to where the long power cord was plugged into a telephone pole. He would take care of the power, and then lure the henchmen away where the Joker couldn't see him take them out so he wouldn't get spooked and drive away with his captives. Then he would tackle the Joker himself.

His plan laid out, he cut the power cord and was about to instigate the second part when the entire city suddenly went dark.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked the world at large as the Joker and all his goons ran off in sudden panic at the darkness.

“Well I guess that takes care of that,” Damian said, unleading the Bat Electric Wire Cutters on the back door of the van. They weren't quite designed to get through the lock but he made it work, pulling the back door open and freezing.

“Get us out of here!” Dick said and there was panic in his voice. “Please, before the power comes back on!”

They were both tied to electric chairs and Damian felt the bottom go out of his stomach. He figured _something_ strange was going on in the van, but he never for a second thought the Joker that thought pouring money out of joke machines would escalate to electric chairs.

He bit down his panic and his reprimand to himself that he should have known better and started getting Dick out of the chair. Bruce didn't even protest for a second that Dick would get out first.

“It's okay,” he said, and somehow his voice remained level. “I cut the power before the black out anyway.”

Dick's grin was blinding considering their brush with death and honestly Damian should have been used to that. “Having you around isn't a bad thing, huh chum?”

Damian glared at him and finally got the last strap undone.

-0-

Damian stared in some horror at the Anti-Crime Voice Analyzer. “Can't you just call things normal names?” he said under his breath as Dick realized Suzie was the Joker's henchman that had spoken to them the night before.

And Dick—Dick actually started tearing up at the realization the head cheerleader was crooked. Damian wished he could give him the privacy by looking away.

But he couldn't because somehow the idea of Dick crying over this made his chest hurt. He hadn't actually told Dick it was Suzie precisely because he didn't want to see this. He'd half hoped he might be able to talk her out of it or knock her down before Dick found out.

Bruce looked serious and sorrowful too. He patted Dick on the shoulder and offered some platitude that Damian would have punched him for. But Dick smiled and tired to rally himself in time for Bruce to tell him he was going undercover.

“What?” Damian asked, having been doing push ups and so not technically working on the case, as Bruce still insisted he couldn't.

“Do you have something you would like to add?” Bruce asked stiffly and Dick sniffed again.

“It's not—look, no one is going to buy Dick as a delinquent,” Damian said.

“I could,” Dick protested.

“Okay, fine you could,” Damian said. “But considering last night, wouldn't it be safer if you didn't go in alone?”

Bruce and Dick exchanged a look.

“I suppose,” Bruce said after a beat.

“I can watch his back,” Damian said. “Besides, they're gonna believe I corrupted him better than him just suddenly having a change of heart.”

Dick's eyes widened. “You—you would never want to corrupt me! Besides, I could resist you!”

Damian had to bit the inside of his cheek hard. “Yeah, that's not the point. They'd believe it, not that I'm actually going to do it.”

Except he wanted to corrupt Dick Grayson very, very badly.

But he had finally read the laws of Gotham, which did have an anti-homosexuality law, and it was still considered a mental disorder according to the DSM. So he swallowed that thought and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

-0-

He had made another mistake, he decided.

Grayson wore leather coats all the time. He was after all incapable of dressing himself most of the time, choosing the brightest purple shirt to wear with an orange jacket, or bright yellow button downs. But when he actually wanted to be taken seriously he would wear a leather jacket, white tee-shirt and jeans. Damian saw the photo albums and he knew that had been Grayson's go to even when he was a kid barely out of the Robin uniform and leading the Teen Titans. It was a classic for a reason and Damian was used to seeing Grayson like that.

But when Dick walked out in a leather jacket and black gloves Damian felt his throat go dry. He wanted to press against him, against the leather and inch his fingers up under what was hidden. He wanted to nuzzle against the collar.

He wanted to remove those gloves with his _teeth_. To pull them off, finger by finger—

Shaking himself, he cleared his throat. “Ready to go then?” he asked.

Dick offered him a blinding smile. “If you are!”

“Yeah, sure,” Damian grunted and reminded himself to just keep breathing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna even lie the whole point of using this arc was Dick in the leather jacket going "undercover"


	5. Chapter 5

Dick tried to swan into the candy store, but he mostly stumbled his way inside. Damian trailed after him, a glowering presence that hopefully would be enough for this undercover sting.

Suzie was shocked to see Dick, too close to the edge of disbelieving, until she spotted Damian behind him. Then her posture relaxed slightly, as if she had a kindred spirit in Damian. The man beside her only continued to look doubtfully between them.

But Damian still winced when Dick slammed the micro camera on the counter and left it in plain sight. True, those were almost unknown at the time, but it was still too obvious and he wanted to hide it better himself.

And then Dick tipped their hands too far. “Some joker, isn't he?” he asked when they were introduced to Nick. Both Nick and Suzie tensed, Suzie cleaning off her expensive watch with her fox stole and honestly, Damian thought, this was pathetic.

“You looking for something, Dickie-boy?” she asked, her eyes flickering to Damian. “Or you?”

“Same as everyone else is, Sue-baby,” Dick said. “Some way to make an easy buck, that's all.”

Suzie's head jerked back in disbelief. “You? The ward of that rich millionaire Bruce Wayne?”

“What a skin-flint!” Dick responded with instantly and for a second Damian thought maybe he had underestimated Dick. “If I didn't swipe dimes from the butler I wouldn't have cigarette money!”

Damian tried to imagine Bruce's face as he watched the camera feed, even knowing Dick didn't mean it. He still felt his stomach drop though, because Nick was rising and offering Dick a cigarette and Dick was going to stumble so badly.

“Oh,” Dick started, the box of cigarettes shoved against his chest.

“What brand is that even?” Damian asked, grabbing the box instead. “Tt. This is pathetic. I thought this was the place to come and make easy money, what are you doing with such a cheap brand?”

“Excuse me?” Nick asked, eyes dark. “What do you know about it?”

“Please,” Damian said, knocking out a cigarette and grabbing the box of matches out of Nick's hands too. He shoved it in his mouth and lit it in one easy motion, taking a drag and trying not to dwell on the nicotine. He'd stopped smoking within the year of starting, because his rebellion against Bruce was not worth the way Dick stared at him.

Besides, it wasn't _healthy_ and he was stronger than a nicotine craving anyway.

He blew the smoke back out, and Dick's eyes were too huge on his face. “As I said,” Damian said, snubbing the cigarette out just as quickly as he had lit it. “This brand is awful. Not worth our time, Dick. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if any of this is.”

“Oh,” Suzie broke in suddenly. “You know, Nick, I think they could really help us out. Dick's a super athlete, you know, you should see him climb and stuff. Maybe I should introduce them to—”

“Zip your lip, baby,” Nick said suddenly. “I thought you said he was a goodie boy.”

“Well, do I look like one?” Damian asked, hopping up on one of the bar stools and bracing one of his boots on the table opposite it.

“So you're saying you're a corrupting influence then?” Nick asked.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Damian said, and smirked. Suzie's expression for a second was unreadable and Dick's eyes flickered over.

“Alright,” Nick said after a beat. “Well, I'll give you this one tip,” he said. “There was a cocktail lounge stick up recently, someone used a jukebox. Well, here's my tip. At exactly three pm today, at the same place you might be able to pick up some nickels and dimes.” He had draped his hand around Dick's shoulders.

Damian scowled, because it was obvious that Nick didn't trust Dick at all, and he hadn't been enough to forestall that.

“Thanks for the tip, Nick,” Dick said, too cheerfully and he leaned over as he stood, knocking the bottom of Suzie's chin. “See you around, Sue-baby,” he said, walking out and Damian shook his head.

“What are you doing with a fellow like that, anyway?” Nick asked.

Damian shrugged and followed Dick out.

“How do you think we did?” Dick asked, turning to him as soon as they were around the block.

“I think they know we weren't serious,” Damian said.

“But,” Dick stared at him with devastated eyes. “I tried my best.”

“It's not your fault,” Damian said, shaking his head and trying not to stare at Dick any more than he had to. He never thought he would appreciate Dick's Robin uniform more but at least he was a little immune to that.

“So the tip?” Dick asked.

“Almost certainly a trap,” Damian said.

“We'll have to spring it!” Dick said. “It's our duty now that we know there's going to be another hold up. It's better that we'll go in knowing what the problem is! And this way we should be able to take down the machine.”

Dick started to scamper off and Damian caught him around the arm. “I'm still coming with you.”

Dick paused. “I don't, I don't think Bruce would agree with that.”

“You're still going up against the Joker,” Damian said. “And alright, I thought joke machines were a little low key for him. But he's still dangerous,” and Damian swallowed hard, thinking of the way Bruce and Dick had been strapped into the electric chairs. “And I'm coming to watch your backs.”

Dick looked at him, his expression too earnest. “Damian—”

“Let's just go,” Damian said too quickly, because at least Dick had never gotten the cigarette into his mouth, but Damian still found himself staring at Dick's lips.

-0-

The rest of the Joker's plan was garbage, Damian decided. But it still almost ended with someone dead. They only caught Suzie in time because she was cocky and opened the poisoned perfume bottle in front of them.

When it came to the battle against the Joker, Damian stayed in the back and out of the way like Bruce insisted he should, and it was over far more quickly than he expected, even if Dick got himself tied up by ridiculously bright ribbons and Damian could breath easier because the Joker was down again and Damian knew better now than to underestimate any of the villains in this strange world.

The Joker could still be dangerous after all.

-0-

Later that night, Dick knocked on his door and Damian scowled at him when he opened the door. “What is it?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Dick said, his eyes bright even with only Damian's bed side lamp illuminating him. “You seemed off earlier today.”

“I'm fine,” Damian said. “It's fine. It's just the Joker.”

“Yeah, he's the worst,” Dick sighed. “But earlier today, you kept looking at me weird.”

“Did I?” Damian asked, and he wanted to close the door in Dick's face just to keep himself from doing something stupid.

Dick shifted and then seemed to change his mind. “You smoke?” he asked instead. “I didn't expect that.”

“I don't any more,” Damian said, leaning against the door frame. “It was a stupid thing I picked up for a while and that you almost as quickly convinced me to drop.”

“I did?” Dick said and looked pleased. “Gee, I guess I'm still pretty okay when I get older then?”

“Yeah,” Damian said and cleared his throat. “Yeah you are. You're pretty great.”

When Dick grinned, he really considered closing the door. “Are you okay?” he asked instead. “About Suzie.”

Dick's face turned serious. “It's not her fault she came from a broken home. But she has a good chance now to turn her life around. I'm sure she will.”

“Yeah,” Damian said after a beat. “I'm sure she will too. Good night, Dick,” he added a little too quickly and shut the door.

-0-

Damian perched on one of the chairs as Suzie paced around the room, waiting to be taken to a correctional facility. Dick bounced on the balls of his feet, watching her, and Damian watching both of them with his chin in his palm.

Suzie made the perfect picture of remorse and fear, telling Bruce when he came in that she would have nightmares about the Joker for the rest of her life. She even leaned in and briefly kissed Dick at the corner of his mouth, but her eyes were on Damian when she did it.

As if she might have known something and Damian tensed but no one else noticed.

And she walked out the room and to the car waiting to take her away, Dick carrying her luggage.

“Must be a nice correctional facility,” Damian remarked, alone in the room with this strange version of his father, something they both mostly avoided.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him a moment. “The point is not to punish her, but to give her a second chance in a carefully controlled environment.”

“Sounds nice, as I said,” Damian shrugged, hoping down from the chair. “I want to go out with you more.”

“I explained already—” Bruce started.

“The Joker almost killed you!” Damian snapped. “By tying you to electric chairs. You can handle most of it, sure, I get that this is your world and all that, you know it better than I do. But you both almost _died_ , and I just want to be able to watch your backs.”

“This is about Dick, isn't it?” Bruce said and there was something uncertain in his expression.

“Of course it is,” Damian said, not even bothering to deny it.

“But you plan to go home,” Bruce said, almost gently and Damian tensed. “You won't be able to watch out for him then.”

“But I can while I'm here,” Damian said.

-0-

It frustrated Damian, how easily Dick found himself in danger. He would constantly be the one targeted, tied up and put into some sort of trap.

Yet he was almost as good at getting himself back out and Damian found himself starting to understand why sometimes people like Two-Face would call Grayson the boy hostage. Grayson could laugh it off, but Dick seemed less able.

He always grit his teeth and squared his shoulders after he had been captured.

One night, barely a few weeks after the Joker had been sent back to prison, Dick was chained up above an active industrial plant, about to drop at any moment.

Damian had sneaked after Batman and Robin, like he had started to do when Bruce once again told him to stay home. He came to a stop on one of the catwalks over the factory, breath catching because Dick was tied up by his arms, legs kicking out and achieving nothing.

Damian wished he wasn't distracted for a second, and thanked god Grayson had never worn this outfit where he could see. In the next second, he was running down the catwalk, throwing out his modified grapple, and throwing himself off the catwalk.

He had forgotten how much he enjoy the freefall, and the arc back up, as he slammed into Dick, sending both of them stumbling onto the far side of the catwalk. “Damian?” Dick asked in surprise, turning to him. “What are you—?”

“Come on, Robin,” Damian said and he heard the sounds of Batman already storming into the factory. “Leave it to Batman, come on,” and he pushed Dick out and down the fire escape out the window.

“He might need our help!” Dick insisted and then staggered, almost collapsing.

“First, let me take a look at you,” Damian said, pulling the chains off, and letting them clank to one side. “Let me just make sure—”

He froze, because his hands were on Dick's arms, and Dick was panting, leaning against the wall of the alleyway, eyes so blue behind his mask, bruises from the fight and chains around his arms and one sneaking across his cheek.

“I'm fine,” Dick insisted, despite all that and Damian's fingers compulsively tightened on his arms.

“You almost died,” he snarled.

“You shouldn't be here,” Dick said. “And I said, I'm fine, I am, I can handle—”

Damian kissed him, shoving their mouths together sloppy and harsh and like he couldn't breath without Dick's mouth on his.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Damian's hands were on Dick's waist and he was trying to climb inside his mouth and make a home there and Dick hadn't moved. He had frozen, and Damian kept his eyes closed because he did not want to see. He could feel his heart going so fast Damian was starting to worry, and with how their chests were pressed together he thought Dick might be able to feel it too.

But he still hadn't moved so Damian started to draw back, catching Dick's bottom lip with his teeth, unable to actually let go yet and just as he was about to fully draw back and figure out _some_ lie to explain this, Dick whimpered, a tiny sound at the back of his throat.

This time it was Damian's turn to freeze and he felt Dick's hands gingerly come up to rest against his shoulders and Dick barely pressed into the kiss, almost a nuzzling against Damian and Damian broke all over again, shoving Dick back against the wall and storming his mouth with teeth and tongue, his hands on Dick's waist tightening their grip and everything narrowed in on them.

He could feel Dick shift against the wall of the alley, his hands going from Damian's shoulders to curl around the back of his head, fingers in their green gloves threading through Damian's hair and every time he breathed it came out as a high pitched whimper, Damian swallowing each one.

Damian shoved his leg forward, between both of Dick's and Dick undulated against it and they both stopped again, panting against each other. “Dami,” Dick started, his voice reedy and Damian tilted his head, dragging his teeth along Dick's throat and Dick jerked against him, whine turning into a moan and Damian could feel it in his chest.

Dick's hands were fluttering against his shoulders, like he couldn't decide whether to push or pull away so Damian kept his teeth on his throat. He wanted to take the boy apart just to see what it would be like to put him back together.

His hands were aching, still on Dick's hips and he had dreamed about this, with his own Dick and now this one and yet he had never realized how overwhelming it would be, how much he felt like he was drowning in Dick's tiny whimpers and the smell of him and the taste of his sweat at the hollow of his throat.

Damian gave up, his hands slowly sliding up Dick's sides and he felt Dick shiver and twitch against him, turning his head away and that just gave him more access to his throat so Damian stayed there, listening to Dick's hitching breaths and Damian got his hands in Dick's hair at last, sliding through the thick strands that always laid just so and Dick's whole body shook again, accidentally driving himself against Damian's thigh and he could feel that Dick was—

Suddenly, when Damian tried to process the enormity of Dick hard against him, Dick shoved him away. They were both panting, and Dick's hands were pressing against both of Damian's shoulders, holding him back.

“Da—Damian,” he said, face flushed and his hair wild from where he had thrown it against the wall and Damian's own hands. “We—it's not—”

“You're not going to tell me it's not right, are you?” Damian asked.

“It's, it's,” Dick stuttered, his pupils wide and Damian could see it because Dick never wore a mask. “It's not legal—”

“That has nothing to do with it being right,” and Damian tried to lean back in but Dick shoved him back again.

“Damian,” he said, and he sounded wrecked. He looked worse and Damian had done this to him. He felt his stomach twist and if he thought for a second it would work he would sink to his knees and—

As soon as he had the thought, he was doing it, keeping eye contact with Dick all the way down until his knees hit the ground. Dick's thighs were still spread slightly, even without Damian between them and Damian reached out, touching and he wondered if the tights Dick wears were opaque enough to hide the bite marks he wanted to leave there—

Dick's legs kept shaking when Damian ran his hands up them, pressing a kiss through the tights against Dick's thigh and Dick's gloved hands hesitantly reached out, barely brushing his hair and Damian _wanted._

“Damian, don't,” Dick said and Damian tore his eyes away from the skin in front of him to look up. “Damian, this isn't,” and Dick shook all over, trembling with his eyes dark and face flushed. “We're not supposed to—”

“Haven't you ever wanted something for yourself, Dick?” Damian asked, hands still holding Dick's thighs.

Dick covered his mouth with a green glove and Damian thought he saw him bite down on a finger. “It's not,” Dick started. “I've wanted,” and he sounded horrified to admit it. “I didn't know what it was but we—we're both—it's—”

“Where I come from it doesn't matter,” Damian said, and kissed his thigh again. “You can love or want or _fuck_ whoever you want.”

Dick keened above him and Damian couldn't help it when he bit Dick through the tights because that wasn't fair. His skin felt too tight he needed too much right then and suddenly Dick twisted away. When Damian's addled brain caught up with that, Dick was staring at him with wide eyes, but his jaw was set.

“We are in an alley,” he said, and Damian could see the fast rise and fall of his chest. “We—we are in public. And as upstanding members of the public we have—we have to—” he seemed to lose track of his thoughts again but he rolled his shoulders back and seemed to find it again. “We cannot engage in such wanton acts where anyone could,” he stumbled over his words again. “See us.”

Damian was still on his knees and he slowly smirked, watching Dick shiver again. “Does that mean we're taking this back to the manor?”

“Gosh—” Dick started and stopped, and Damian saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed. “We'll figure that out there,” Dick said in a querulous voice.

“Alright,” Damian said, pushing himself up in one motion and felt a thrill that Dick couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. He stalked forward and Dick didn't move, only his eyes going unfocused as Damian got closer. “We'll talk about it there,” he said, almost against Dick's mouth and Dick turned abruptly, walking stiffly away.

-0-

Except the instant they were back, Bruce caught Dick up and demanded to know if he was alright and Dick nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Damian as he explained who had saved him, but nothing of the rest of it.

Damian tried to keep his expression from following Dick as he moved.

“Thank you,” Bruce said suddenly, his voice stiff and unhappy.

“You're welcome,” Damian said automatically, even though he disliked being thanked for Dick's safety. It was just what he did, what he would always do, and it didn't seem quite right to accept thanks for it.

When he turned away from Bruce Dick was gone, and Damian blinked.

He walked upstairs, hands in his pockets and no matter where he turned Dick wasn't there. Slowly he accepted Dick was hiding from him and reminded himself he had expected no less.

Except the way Dick had thrown his head back when Damian kissed his throat and moaned and shook against him. He had—

At least in those seconds he had wanted Damian back. But now that he had the chance to clear his head Damian felt a twist of fear that Dick would never look at him again. Would never smile at him or look bemused or—

It didn't matter, he told himself, falling face forward onto his bed, having stumbled back to his room with his head full of thoughts of Dick. It didn't matter because he was going home, he would find a way and he would go home and never see this Dick again and he would have Grayson back, who for all his other faults had no problems with men being together.

He rolled over and missed the click of the door until movement caught his eyes and he looked up to see Dick close the door behind him. Somehow he had changed into pants and a salmon pink sweater in the meantime and Damian suppressed a scowl.

“We should,” Dick started, and his hands were behind his back and on the door as he leaned against it. “Talk? Because, because this isn't a good idea. You—you want to go home, right? And I don't know what it's like where you're from but here, here it's not a good idea,” he trailed off abruptly because Damian had been advancing on him.

“You want it,” he said, not a question.

“I don't know what I want,” Dick said quietly. “Since I've met you—But I've never wanted anything like this before.”

“Never?” Damian frowned.

Dick shrugged, lifting one of his shoulders and he was still leaning against the door. “People talked about it all the time and I thought they were just making it up.”

“And now?” Damian asked, and he had moved close enough his breath brushed Dick's cheek as he bent his head down but they weren't touching—not yet.

“I don't,” Dick stammered and met Damian's eyes and they were kissing again, Dick's arms around Damian's neck and Damian slammed him back against the door. He stopped hating the sweater the moment he got his fingers up underneath it and on Dick's back, feeling the heat of his skin and seeing the fabric scrunch up to reveal just a little bit more of skin—

“I was going to say something,” Dick said.

“Do you not want this?” Damian demanded. “No speech, no boy scout platitudes. Yes or no?”

“Y-yes,” Dick said and Damian got his fingers in Dick's jeans, tugging them down by the belt loops and the sweater and shirt were still rucked up so Damian could see the tops of his hipbones.

“Then for fuck's sake,” Damian said and kissed him again and Dick bucked against him. He opened his mouth and groaned and Damian took that as permission to shove his tongue inside. He tried to tell himself to move slow, to be gentle but Dick kept making tiny breathless sounds and they were driving Damian insane.

“I want to bite you,” he said, scrapping his teeth along the skin behind Dick's ear.

“Ma—marks are bad,” Dick managed.

“What about here?” Damian asked, bending his head down and biting Dick's shoulder.

“Still a bad idea,” Dick started and Damian had him up against the door until he realized things could be so much better if he could just get them turned around and he could have Dick on a bed, sprawled out and for _him—_

As soon as he processed the thought he was moving, shoving Dick back and Dick went eagerly, as they stumbled across the room kissing and almost tripping. But then Damian had Dick on the bed and Dick's eyes were huge and marveling as he traced his fingers carefully up Damian's chest.

“This doesn't seem like it should be right,” Dick said.

“Why not?” Damian demanded, and wanted to tear the sweater in half. Instead he urged Dick up just enough to pull it up over his head. There was an annoying moment where it got tangled in Dick's arms and they both struggled to get it off and away.

“Because it feels too good,” Dick said, meeting his eyes. “It's,” and he threw his head back when Damian bit his shoulder. “Oh,” he said, eyes fluttering. “You were serious.”

“Yes,” Damian said, almost growling and he had a hard time dragging his teeth away from that spot. Dick whimpered, and he covered his mouth with his hand again as Damian started moving lower, leaving nips and kisses along the way, feeling Dick's stomach jump with each touch.

When he got to Dick's hipbones he stopped again, looking up the expanse of Dick's body to meet his eyes. “I want to do things to you,” he said, and his voice was low he felt Dick's thigh spasm under his hand. “Things I don't even _understand_ , Dick.”

“Oh gosh,” Dick managed but Damian felt his reaction under his hands and smirked. “Damian,” Dick said and the pants Dick was wearing were nice but they were in Damian's way. He barely got them shoved down to Dick's thighs before he was bored with them already and wrapping his hand around Dick's cock.

Dick almost jumped right off the bed and his moan escaped past his hand.

Damian watched him as he fumbled out, grabbing the pillow and dragging it closer so he could turn and hide his face in it. He sighed, because he wanted to hear Dick, but on the other hand he really did not want this Bruce—or any Bruce—to walk in on this, let alone this universe's strange Aunt Harriet.

So instead he turned his attention down to where he still had his hand around Dick's cock, considering it. “I tried not to stare at you in the showers,” he said, and Dick sounded like he might be close to hyperventilating, his chest heaving and shaking. “I tried. But you are so fucking beautiful,” and he had dreamed about Dick and Grayson both before and he finally had one of them at least for this and he was not going to waste it—

He bent his head down, kissing Dick's hipbone again and then dragging his teeth over the bone, watching to see the way Dick thrust up against his touch before he moved his mouth over, kissing the head of Dick's cock and he almost bucked all the way off the bed.

Damian thought he could hear a sob through the pillow and something that sounded like his name.

He moved his mouth lower and sucked more of Dick into his mouth and Dick tasted different and Damian had barely gotten used to the texture and weight of him in his mouth—and he had stayed awake touching himself and thinking about what this would feel like—when Dick shook and yelled something through the pillow and still Damian hadn't expected it he came, having to draw back too quickly to keep from choking.

Next time, he thought, wiping his mouth and looking down at Dick, he was going to be better prepared.

But he got distracted staring at Dick, loose limbed and panting on the bed, eyes glazed and one arm still wrapped around the pillow. “Dick,” he whispered. “Jesus Christ,” and he bent down, nuzzling against his shoulder where his bite had created a bruise and Dick whimpered, shifting against him. “You are so—”

“Hghn,” Dick managed and then he rolled over, shoving Damian with him until Damian lay on his side next to him. “Damian,” he murmured, sleepy and low and kissed him. For a second Damian was scared Dick would realize where his mouth had been and pull away but he didn't, kissing him deeper instead. “Is that what people talk about all the time?”

“Part of it,” Damian whispered and he wanted to touch himself, anything but Dick was stroking his back and kissing him and Damian whimpered. “Dick, you—”

“You don't leave someone hanging,” Dick said back, serious and Damian wanted to hit him, except for how tight his whole body felt, and how desperate and just the idea of Dick touching him almost made him lose his mind. “Just give me a second. That was,” and he nuzzled along Damian's jaw.

Before Damian came up with a response, Dick's hands were sliding around his waist and wrapping around him. It would have been embarrassing with anyone else, that it only took a few strokes, Dick whispering his name against his temple and Damian was shaking against him, clinging to Dick and burying his yell in Dick's shoulder with his mark on it.

“It's messy,” Dick remarked, some infinite time later.

“Yeah,” Damian said and felt boneless and Dick wrapped his arms around him. “Dick,” Damian whispered. “Dick you have no idea—”

“You're one of the best people I've ever known,” Dick murmured back and Damian opened his mouth to say something else and passed out instead.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a really long week. Not a bad week persay just really really exhausting.

The thing was, Damian had had a plan. Sometime after he turned sixteen he had noticed that Grayson wouldn't quite look at him anymore, not full on. Or he would avoid Damian in the shower and Damian _noticed_ because they were all well trained detectives and Grayson should have known any change in his behavior would catch Damian's attention.

But still Grayson had started avoiding him at the most obvious times.

So Damian had tested his hypothesis, not allowing Grayson to avoid him, getting him to spar and striping down halfway through just to see Grayson's eyes widen before narrowing in a glare. Damian had a pretty good idea Grayson had noticed he was growing up.

But Damian wasn't stupid, and there was a reason he accepted Grayson into his heart and so few others. Which meant he abruptly stopped, letting Grayson avoid him when he wanted, settling down and not provoking him anymore.

He was sixteen, he would be eighteen in a few more years, and there was no reason to rush Grayson and every reason to wait.

Because he was sixteen and he would never do that to Grayson.

But Dick—Dick was his own age and he wasn't Grayson but he was alarmingly close and also so much more at the same time.

Damian nuzzled against the top of his head and Dick shifted closer to him, their legs entwined and logically Damian knew Dick should have gone back to his room a long time ago. Bruce or Alfred or his aunt were bound to start looking for him if they didn't find him in time for their early breakfast and yet—and yet Damian couldn't stand to wake him up and insist he leave.

“Oh,” he heard and looked down to see Dick's blue eyes looking back at him. He shifted, sighed, and then grinned at Damian. “Oh,” he repeated happily.

“Morning,” Damian grunted, shoving all his sappy thoughts to one side.

Dick's arms slid around his waist and Damian blinked in surprise when Dick pressed a kiss to his mouth. “This is nice,” Dick said, and the kiss had been almost chaste.

“Yeah,” Damian agreed. “I thought—”

“What?” Dick asked when he didn't continue.

“I thought you wouldn't still be here in the morning,” Damian admitted and Dick shifted, climbing onto his lap and Damian rolled over onto his back to make it easier.

“I know it's not normal,” Dick said, once he was comfortable and Damian couldn't catch his breath. His hands went to Dick's hips and for a second all he could do was stare because he was really there, touching Dick and there were bruises on his hips, small bite marks that Damian had left. “But I don't care.”

“You sure you don't?” Damian asked.

“You know sometimes Batman and I have to go to clubs, looking for someone else. And there would be these men, hiding in the corners and I always wondered why they would risk that,” he leaned down, nuzzling his nose against Damian's and Damian almost forgot to pay attention to what he was saying. “It's illegal after all. But I mean, I knew people did, anyway, and I understand why now. Gosh I,” and he dipped down just enough to kiss Damian again and the fear of Bruce or someone else walking in paled compared to that. Damian could even ignore their morning breath because he had his hands on Dick and Dick bent his spine into his hands and this felt like perfection.

The knock at the door ruined the moment.

With a muffled yelp, Dick rolled off the bed and hid away from the door and Damian shoved what clothes he could find under the bed while pulling on his pants one handed and hopping to the door.

“Fa—I mean—Mr—Bruce,” he settled for finally when he opened the door.

“Damian,” Bruce greeted and Damian forced his face to blank neutrality. “Have you seen Dick? He hasn't come down to breakfast yet.”

“Not this morning,” Damian said.

Bruce paused for a second, perfectly poised in his sweater and parted hair. “I wanted to say,” Bruce started, stiffly. “I know I haven't always been the best with you I could be.” Damian blinked and otherwise refused to react. “But I wanted to say thank you. You've been watching out for us and Dick especially and it does mean a lot to me. I just wish you wouldn't swear so much.”

“I,” Damian started. “I'll work on it,” he said a little gruffly and Bruce nodded.

“If you see Dick—”

“I'll make sure he gets to breakfast,” Damain said quickly.

“Do you really sleep without pajamas?” Bruce asked, after he had started to turn away and turned back.

“Um, no,” Damian said, and he could feel his cheeks heating. “I don't.”

Bruce's mouth narrowed but he nodded and walked away, Damian closing the door quickly. He leaned against it as Dick pocked his head over the edge of the bed.

“Golly, what a wake up call,” Dick said.

“Yeah,” Damian said, letting out a shaky laugh. Dick rose, rooting under the bed for his clothes and approached Damian again, Damian tracking him with his eyes.

“I should really get down,” Dick said.

“Yeah,” Damian agreed, and he pulled Dick into a kiss anyway, feeling the warmth of his skin against his chest. “Yeah we both should,” and somehow he let Dick go long enough for them to both finish dressing and Damian left the room first, making sure no one else was in the hallway.

-0-

Damian had forgotten it was a school day.

He sat behind Dick and tried not to stare at his shoulder, where there was another bruise from his mouth.

He sat beside Dick later, and tried not to catch his hand when Dick handed him a pencil. He only let his fingers linger for a moment, and Dick stared at him with wide eyes.

If everyone didn't know by lunch it was because they were blind.

When Damian sat down next to Dick at lunch, Dick tipped his head toward him and they were far too close on the bench.

-0-

“It's actually quiet tonight,” Dick said, when Damian had slunk into his room.

“I still find it weird you don't go out on patrol,” Damian said and he had his hands already up Dick's sweater, feeling his stomach jump when he trailed his fingers across the bare skin there.

“What's the point if no one is causing harm?” Dick asked.

“Apparently not much of one,” Damian said and he didn't mind at all. Because Dick shifted against him and they were kissing again and Damian wondered if he would get sick of this, of feeling Dick press against him and make a breathless sound.

Dick pulled back, grinning and Damian was distracted by opening his pants. “Holy sex, Batman,” he said, grinning the whole time and Damian stopped what he was doing to glare at him.

“No,” he said.

“I was restraining myself,” Dick said.

“I appreciate that. Continue to do so.”

Dick kissed him, open mouthed and warm and Damian forgot entirely why he had been annoyed.

-0-

“So are periods of time when you don't have any villains running around normal?” Damian asked, sitting on the side of Bruce's pool and trying not to stare at Dick swimming.

“Every time you ask questions like that, I wonder what it's like where you come from all over again,” Dick said, paddling over to where Damian said and crossing his arms on the edge of the pool, resting his chin there.

“It is what it is,” Damian said and swallowed hard. “It's home, after all.”

“Yeah,” Dick said and for a second they stared at each other. “I still wonder. I mean, it sounds—”

“It's hard,” Damian said, and he pulled one knee to his chest and wrapped his arms around it. He realized he hadn't yelled at an imaginary Tim in a long time.

“What are you going to do?” Dick asked suddenly. “If you can't figure out how to get back?”

“I, I don't know,” Damian said and looked at Dick. “But, you—”

“I always knew you wanted to go back,” Dick said, cutting Damian off. “I know that hasn't changed. Like you said, it's home. I always knew you were leaving sometime.”

“But us,” Damian said.

“I'm glad,” Dick said, and he rested his cheek on his folded hands. “I'm so glad I got to meet you and have this, no matter how long it takes me to find out if this world has a Damian Wayne of its own.”

Damian stared at him. “You're not going to start this better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, are you?”

“I think you summarized it for me,” Dick said and Damian couldn't help it, even thought the sun was shining and anyone could see them he leaned down and kissed Dick anyway.

Dick pushed himself up on his arms, holding himself half out of the water to return the kiss and Damian had a hand in his hair when a throat cleared behind them. Abruptly they broke away, Dick falling almost entirely back into the water.

“A-Alfred,” Damian managed, because at least it wasn't Bruce Wayne standing there.

“Young sirs,” Alfred said, and seemed remarkably unphased. “I do believe there is someone here to see you.”

“What?” Damian asked and Dick was already climbing out of the pool, toweling off quickly and Damian felt something like hope and fear flutter in his chest when he looked past Alfred and there stood Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne, and off a little to the side the other Bruce Wayne.

“Oh,” Damian managed.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should have been posted like three days ago but I did something horrible to my shoulder and it hurt too much to type, boo.

Grayson moved first, wrapping Damian up in a hug that squeezed his ribcage and made breathing difficult. “I'm so glad to see you,” he said and Damian was clinging back, and Grayson smelled right, like smoke and Gotham and the expensive cologne father gave him to try and cover it up and that Grayson pretended not to wear every day.

“I suppose it is not awful to see you as well,” Damian mumbled and Grayson laughed, finally stepping back and ruffling his hair.

“That's so sweet, coming from you,” he teased and Damian shoved at him before focusing on his father, who stood broad shouldered in a well pressed and precise suit. Damian felt a sudden surge of gratitude that they had come in civilian clothes and not their Kevlar lined battle suits.

“Father,” he greeted and was surprised when Bruce stepped forward and hugged him too. It was less bone crushing than what Grayson had subjected him too and made him feel oddly warm.

“We were worried about you,” his father said and stepped back, already sliding back into his usual expression and composed again.

“They came up through the batcave,” Bruce Wayne explained. “And instantly wanted to see you.”

“Sorry about that again,” Grayson said, flashing Bruce a charming smile that made him blink a few times and then smile back. Damian tried not to laugh because Dick was charming and sweet but he wasn't Grayson's casually overpowering charm.

“It's alright,” Bruce said. “We were, well, expecting that someone might show up looking for him.”

“Still, you seemed quite startled to see strangers in your cave,” Grayson said, still smiling and Bruce seemed to be struggling slightly with that.

Damian turned around and realized Dick had disappeared the moment the others had shown up, as had Alfred, leaving him with his father, Grayson, and Bruce.

Bruce who seemed a little floored by the man Dick Grayson had become, and was trying not to stare at his own counterpart as much as Damian's father was trying to pretend to ignore him while cataloging everything about him.

Damian had forgotten, through exclusive exposure to this Bruce how broad shouldered his own father was, the suit barely covering how obviously strong he was, even now as he got older and older. He made this Bruce appear a little frumpy almost, in his sweaters and side parted hair.

“We're not sure how long we can stay,” his father said, meeting his eyes. “Tim wasn't positive about it.”

“I'm surprised he didn't come,” Damian said, not really surprised.

Grayson coughed into his hand. “He said something about us driving him crazy.”

Damian cringed, because he knew what his father and Grayson were like when they were stressed or worried, and it only got worse the longer they were in the same space.

“I assume that means he shoved you through whatever he created and is currently enjoying a nice cup of his calming tea?” Damian said and Grayson laughed, a little ashamed and nodded.

“Did he give you any indication of how long it would be before we had to return without problem?” Damian asked, and looked around again because Dick had disappeared, _where was he—_

“Half an hour,” Grayson said as Dick came back out of the manor, his hair still wet and a little wild over his face, but he had changed quickly into real clothes and Damian supposed he couldn't blame him for wanting to face his older counterpart in actual, dry clothing.

Dick settled to a stop at Damian's side and Damian glanced at him before turning back to Grayson, who was staring at the younger Dick intently. “You must be the Dick Grayson he talks so much about,” Dick said and Grayson's face broke out into a smile.

“Aw, you talk about me?”

“Shut up, Grayson,” Damian mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

As Dick and Grayson considered each other, Damian found himself staring at Grayson again, his familiar and worn leather jacket and the few grey hairs that had appeared at his temples. Sometimes his father would gently mock him for going grey before he did and Grayson would promptly retort that he definitely blamed the Waynes for that.

He wasn't even that much taller than Dick, but he moved with the complete confidence that kept him alive in Gotham.

“So you're going to be going home then?” Dick asked, finally looking back at him and Damian bit the inside of his cheek hard.

“Yeah,” he said, and they had just been talking about it, but somehow he hadn't expected it to be so instant. He had only had three days of memorizing Dick's body and suddenly, as much as he had wanted to go home, wished he could have at least a couple more.

“I meant what I said,” Dick said, softly, and both of the Bruces were watching them a little intently, and Grayson looked like he wasn't sure what to make of them standing so close. “But I am going to miss you.”

“I know,” Damian said, not quite capable of saying he would miss him too.

“I still hope I'll meet you again in this world,” Dick said. “Place is more interesting with a Damian Wayne around.”

“You'll have to take that up with Bruce,” Damian said and he heard Bruce make a confused sound, halfway between offense and something else. “But I'm sure you'll find another loud mouthed asshole to attach to.”

He heard Bruce sigh at his language and almost smiled, except Dick's eyes were dark as he looked at him. “Maybe,” he said, “Now that I know what to look for.” And they were being obvious, surely they were being obvious enough that even the Bruce from here would be able to pick up on what they were talking about, let alone his own Bruce and Grayson—

But that suspicion must have instantly turned to knowing because Dick leaned forward and kissed him, despite the fact that all of them could see it.

He couldn't even force himself to care though because Dick's hands were twining around his neck and his mouth was warm and sweet and Damian couldn't help but hold on, hands spread out along his ribcage.

“Be careful,” Dick said, drawing back. “In that Gotham you come from.”

“You too,” Damian said past his dry throat, not quite daring yet to turn around and see anyone's reaction. “I mean it,” he said, his hands tightening slightly on Dick. “Stop getting kidnapped and put into impossible traps.”

“I'll do my best,” Dick said with a smile and Damian couldn't help it, the damage was done, so he kissed him again before stepping back.

Still unwilling to look at Grayson, he instead found himself in front of Bruce Wayne, in his sweater and he looked flustered but Damian met his eyes anyway, despite feeling like neither of them wanted that.

“It's been,” Bruce started and suddenly he reached forward, pulling Damian into a hug that he had never expected, and certainly not after he kissed his ward. “Take care of yourself, Damian.”

“Um,” Damian managed. “Yeah. You, you too. And take care of him.”

“That's what I usually do,” Bruce agreed, seriously and for a second it looked like he might get weepy. Instead he stepped back and Damian finally looked at his father and Grayson, who had had enough time to compose themselves from whatever their first reaction had been.

Standing a little behind them was Alfred, and Damian couldn't say how glad he was that Aunt Harriet wasn't there. Instead he walked up to Alfred, thrusting his hand out. “Alfred, thank you.”

“You're most welcome, Master Damian,” Alfred said, with a smile that wasn't quite like his Alfred's and yet similar enough it made Damian ache a little bit.

Damian stepped back and looked over his shoulder one more time at Dick, realizing Dick and Grayson were watching each other. But then Grayson smiled at his counterpart and Dick flushed before smiling a little bit back.

“We should go,” Bruce said. “Tim said we wouldn't have a lot of time.”

“Yes,” Damian agreed, and when he turned back, Dick waved at him. “I was serious about taking care of yourself!”

“I will!” Dick protested, covering a laugh. “You too, Damian.”

He thought he might have heard him add, quietly, “I'm glad I met you.”

-0-

Tim was waiting in the cave, and there was an empty tea mug next to him. “Will you be a little less crazy now?” he asked, leveling Bruce and Grayson with a glare.

“Yes,” Grayson said, easily, and Damian nodded at Tim.

“That took you a long time.”

“Next time try not to fall into a cross dimension portal the size of a lamppost,” Tim shot back. “It was almost impossible to find, and then replicate.”

“I'll do my best,” Damian said, and he was happy to be home, _he was_. He even missed Tim and was looking forward to seeing Cass again, and his cat, and to maybe give Alfred a stiff hug.

But instead all he did was walk up the stairs and collapse into his bed, aching and wondering why he never realized this would hurt so much.

-0-

Oddly, his father found him first.

He was down in the cave in the early hours of morning, punching a bag and he was already itching for nigh to fall to get out. “Damian,” Bruce said behind him.

“Father,” Damian greeted, delivering a roundhouse kick to the boxing bag and not turning around.

“How are you doing?”

“I'm fine,” Damian said, and kicked the bag again. “Happy to be home.”

“Are you?” Bruce asked and Damian finally turned around to look at him. “I've never seen you show interest in someone before.”

“I haven't had it before,” Damian said, which was not quite a lie. Not from a certain perspective, anyway.

“Have you talked to Dick about it?” Bruce asked.

“Why would I?” Damian asked.

His father stared him down and even though Damian was almost as tall as he was now, he still quailed a little under that look. “Because even if those men weren't us as we are,” Bruce said. “They were us in some way. And you were in love with him.”

“Who said it had anything to do with love?” Damian demanded, because he felt too hot and like his skin didn't fit and scared because his father was never supposed to know this.

“Damian,” Bruce said, voice still level. “Go talk with Dick.”

And he left, which meant Damian didn't really have to.

But he got on a bike anyway, leaning his forehead against the cool metal for a second. The others had a bike too, but it wasn't as sleek as this one, and all the Robins seemed to have an affection for sleek bikes and he was no different.

Roaring it to life, he tried to figure out what he would say to Grayson, and by the time he was at his door he still had no answer. So he knocked anyway, and waited, bouncing on his heels, for Grayson to open the door.

“Damian,” Grayson said. “Come in, come in.”

Damian walked inside stiffly, before turning to face the man who busied himself with closing the door and then going to the kitchen. “Have you had breakfast yet? I haven't. I can make—”

“You know I don't eat cereal,” Damian said and Grayson made a face at him.

“I can make _eggs,_ ” he finished. “I can actually take care of myself.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Damian said, looking around the apartment with an arched brow.

“Just because I don't, doesn't mean I can't,” Grayson said, shaking his head and Damian had to bite his cheek again. Grayson seemed to understand part of that because he turned all the way around and dragged Damian into a hug before he was prepared to fend it off. “I'm just so glad you're back.”

“I hear you got into at least one fist fight with father,” Damian said, muffled against Grayson's shoulder. If he grew any more he would be taller than Grayson, he realized.

“That might have happened twice,” Grayson admitted.

Damian tried not to smile. “You two are a mess without me.”

“I think we're always a mess one way or another,” Grayson said and pulled back. “But I am so glad you're home, everything else pales to that.”

“Everything?” Damian asked.

“What do you mean by that?” Grayson said, wary.

“Father said I should come talk to you,” Damian said. “About what happened.”

“Damian,” Grayson said, even more wary and he stepped back. “It's fine. There's nothing we need to talk about—”

“I kissed the other Dick Grayson,” Damian found himself snapping and Grayson froze.

“Yes,” he said carefully.

“And we have nothing to talk about?” Damian demanded.

“Damian,” Grayson said lowly.

“No,” Damian stepped forward and to his credit Grayson didn't step back. “I didn't just kiss him you know.” Something flared in Grayson's expression but he didn't move. “We did plenty else.”

“Damian, this isn't—”

“Appropriate?”

“My concern,” Grayson snapped. “Look. I'm happy you found someone you liked, I am. Everyone should have their first love and—”

“Even if it was with you?” Damian pressed and he realized vaguely he had been inching forward again.

“That wasn't me,” Grayson said. “Not, not in the technical nor the meaningful sense.”

“You're right,” Damian said after a beat. “He wasn't you and you aren't him for all you share a name and a sense of love and wonder and compassionate hearts.” He met Grayson's eyes. “And yet.”

“Damian,” Grayson said again. “Stop, this isn't—”

“I'm sixteen,” Damian said.

“Believe me, I know,” Grayson said and then cringed at the admission.

Damian tried not to smile. “I'm not going to do that to you,” he said and Grayson frowned at him. “I know how old I am, and that you would kill yourself with guilt, whether it was warranted or not. _I_ don't want you to compromise yourself either.”

“What are you,” Grayson started and Damian shoved him back by his shoulders and Grayson let him, until Damian had him almost pinned against the wall.

“But when I'm eighteen,” Damian said, voice heavy with the promise. “I want you. And I think you will not be adverse to being wanted them.”

Grayson's eyes were dark as he met Damian's. “That's still—there's a lot of time between now and then. You could change your mind.”

Damian grinned, feral and full of teeth and he thought Grayson trembled. “I very much doubt I am going to.”

“Do I get a choice about this?” Grayson asked.

“Yes,” Damian said, drawing his hands back. “Of course you do. But you will at least endure my suit first. Because I think you want me too and I know I love you.”

Grayson stared at him, mouth falling open. “Damian,” he whispered and Damian couldn't help it for all his words, he leaned in and kissed Grayson, open mouthed and as violently as he had kissed Dick in the alleyway and Grayson shivered, not responding. When Damian drew back he could tell it was only through sheer will.

“But I can wait,” he said.

“I hope you're not confusing the two of us,” Grayson said.

“I'm not,” Damian said and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and it felt too pathetic, like he was holding himself because Dick couldn't. “As I said. You share much but I know you're not the same. But I wanted you before and I want you know, and when I am of age I will get the chance to court you.”

“Jesus,” Grayson said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I shouldn't agree to that.”

“I'm giving you a choice to say yes or no,” Damian admitted. “Not whether I try or not.”

“And you think you can wait that long?” Grayson asked.

“Yes,” Damian said, certain.

“And in the meantime—”

“Nothing changed for me when I realized this the first time,” Damian said. “I treat you the same as ever and I assume you will too.”

“Right,” Grayson said and squared his shoulders. “Uh. Did you want breakfast?”

Damian let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. “Please,” he said.

**Coda:**

Bruce found Dick curled up in the window, a book open beside him but he wasn't reading it.

“A history of China,” Bruce read, picking up the book. “An excellent choice to better yourself with.”

“Thanks,” Dick said and finally looked back at him. They hadn't really avoided each other, but Bruce had realized with a jolt he had to go and actually find his ward after Damian had left with the other versions of themselves.

That didn't sit very well with him, so go to find him he did.

“Look, chum,” he started, awkward and Dick looked at him with actual wariness in his eyes which broke his heart. “I know you miss him.”

“I do,” Dick said softly.

“And I know,” Bruce said, and poked at Dick's legs until he pulled them up against his chest, leaving room for Bruce to sit on the windowsill as well. “That it's not strictly considered legal around here, to do what you did.”

Dick gave a jerky nod. “But I don't care,” Bruce continued. “I mean, our law enforcement are good people, we both know this. In Gotham at least they're good people and they want what's best for the community and we try to trundle along under all the rules as best as possible for ourselves and society.”

“Bruce,” Dick said, a little lost and Bruce wanted to pull him close and hug him and managed not to.

“But I just said I don't care,” Bruce reiterated, worried that had gotten lost in what he said afterwards. “Because for all the good they do and we do with them, we're all just human. And it's never right to deny people love, no matter what form it takes. It's the greatest mistakes our law makes whether it's about race or gender or anything else.” He rested a hand on Dick's knee. “I'm sorry he had to leave and I'm sorry you're hurting but please, Dick, don't avoid me because you think I think less of you.”

“Oh,” Dick managed, blinking rapidly and then he threw himself at Bruce, who caught him easily and squeezed him tightly. “Bruce, thank you.”

“You couldn't do wrong in my eyes, Dick,” Bruce said.

“I don't know what I'd do without you,” Dick said and Bruce smiled.

“Now, I'm not saying it's not going to make your life more complicated,” Bruce said. “But. I hope you find someone you care for as much as him. And when you do, we'll figure something out, alright?”

“Even if it means lying?” Dick found himself asking.

“Preferably only lies of omission,” Bruce said and felt Dick laugh into his shoulder. “We are, otherwise, supposed to be upstanding citizens.”

“Thank you,” Dick said again and Bruce patted his shoulder.

It had been a bit of a shock but he felt stupid for not having seen it the moment Damian stared at his ward for too long with the intent way he had.

Apparently the world's greatest detective was still flabbergasted by matters of the heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes folks, we're leaving them all there. Dick and Damian don't quite have their happy endings yet, but they're both well on the pathway there.


End file.
